


i think i’ve made my choice

by VITRI0L



Series: pain [2]
Category: DreamSMP, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood, Gen, Sad Ending, Wilbur Soot-centric, death and injury, im sorry :(, morally grey wilbur soot, no beta we die like l’manberg, this is just more pain, villain!wilbur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26990647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VITRI0L/pseuds/VITRI0L
Summary: Wilbur goes through with his plan to blow up Manberg.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: pain [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968457
Comments: 3
Kudos: 76





	i think i’ve made my choice

**Author's Note:**

> this is just more suffering :(

Wooden planks pinned his right leg, and kept Wilbur stationary in the mess he has caused. His face was lying in the cold dirt, which was sticky with a coating of blood. There was a sharp pain in his side every time he breathed. Wil was sure that something had impaled his torso, but he didn’t have the strength to so much as lift his head to look.

Another breath in and he coughed weakly. 

Another breath out and he wheezed.

Wilbur would die. He knew this, planned for it as soon as he got the idea to blow up Manberg. He had been ready ever since they’d been exiled. This was inevitable.

But it still hurt beyond anything Wilbur could’ve imagined. His body was burning and he could feel his lower half anymore. His blood mixed with the cold blood in the dirt, staining his coat and the earth. His vision was so blurry that he couldn’t keep his eyes open and his mind swam so viciously that it made Wil want to vomit.

The emotional pain only prolonged his suffering.

The sight of the podium crashing violently and spraying debris was haunting by itself. But Wil heard the yells and cries of fear and pain as the building came falling down. 

Wilbur doesn’t remember what the impact felt like, he must have passed out, but he remembered the beginning of the white hot pain. He heard the cries die out, the day became deathly silent. 

Tubbo was at the bottom of the hill that the podium had been built into. He laid on his stomach, hand gripping his side, a few debris crowding and pinning him. Wilbur, who was stuck halfway out of the stage rubble, remembered wondering how he’d gotten down there so fast.

Tommy had retrieved the brunet quickly. He moved desperately, looking relatively unharmed as he pulled planks off his best friend and threw them away frantically.

Wilbur remembered that Tommy looked back at him. Anger flashed in those blue eyes, searing through the older man’s flesh and burning into his soul. They locked eyes and the anger disappeared, replaced with pain, regret and sadness.

 _He shouldn’t have to feel so intensely, yet. He’s still so young,_ was the thought that crossed Wil’s mind.

The sun sets and Wilbur could only think about Tommy. He had tried so hard to make the teen understand, tell him how he felt. Wilbur had pressed the idea, so sure that he could get his right hand man to stay by his side.

And Tommy had, until the teen couldn’t go any further. The unwavering faith in Wilbur and in L’Manberg that Tommy held was a faith Wil realized now that he didn’t deserve. He caused nothing but pain, and now, many were dead because of him.

Wilbur breathed in again, feeling needles prick his entire body when he did. 

_Dead because of me..._ he thought.

It wasn’t what he wanted, not truly. Wilbur just wanted revenge, validation for all the pain that the people of Manberg had caused him and the pain the entire world had given him. They’d taken his home, his nation and all the people he’d loved from him.

“I should have understood”, he whispered to himself, “That Tommy was right.”

He’d thought Tommy was the blind one. The teen was too trusting, in Wil’s mind, not careful enough around those who could betray him. It had infuriated Wilbur, for he needed his right hand man to see the truth and the lies that he thought they told. Needed Tommy to stay by his side, and be the only one Wil could trust.

 _How selfish,_ his mind supplied.

A loud, clear sound rung in the silent night. Wilbur could barely register that sound as a laugh, for he’d not heard such a happy noise in ages. 

_How long has it been,_ his mind asked.

Wilbur would have cried if he was strong enough, but the pain siphoned all his energy. The unfamiliar sound only brought back fleeting glimpse of the past, of the days before L’Manberg.

He saw Fundy, the boy he’d adopted, grow up in his memories beside Tommy and Tubbo, the boys Wilbur had come to see has his younger brothers. Conflict had not yet reached those innocent kids, just like it hadn’t yet poisoned Wil.

The thoughts burned him like fire, and Wilbur wished the thoughts would leave him _alone_. The reflecting, the guilt, the rationality, it would help no one, not anymore.

Wilbur pressed his cheek into the ground, too tired to stop the waves of emotions from shattering his heart. He let them run their course, leaving him feeling worn and numb to the outside world.

_I’ve made my choice, and I wish that I hadn’t._

It was Wilbur’s final thought. A tear slipped out from under his eyelid, and landed in the dirt, now hardened and cold with old blood. 

Death slowly stole all the war torn pain from the brunet, who only wanted peace. Life hadn’t been graceful, and death was much worse.

The night was cold, the moon one of the only witnesses of the fall of humanity.

**Author's Note:**

> the works in this series are all in the same universe. it’s just different perspectives of the same day. 
> 
> thanks for reading :)


End file.
